I hear them
honking
then look towards the sound
in the sky
and watch them fly over
in a V, one leg longer than the other,
their brown and white and black feathers
beautifully delineated
into the clothes they must call home.
Seeing them,
I miss them.
Since the big pond went dry in July,
they have been absent.
I don’t know if those flying overhead
are from around here
or further away.
Further away, I suspect:
most nearby ponds are dry
or drying.

And now the Canada Geese
are heading south.
Our pond,
normally a winter home for a few,
is turning green with plants.
There’s a sick feeling
in the pit of my stomach.
And I am grateful
for every honking Canada Goose
I ever heard.